from: She Stoops to Conquer

Let school-masters puzzle their brain

With grammar, and nonsense, and learning;

Good liquor, I stoutly maintain,

Gives genus a better discerning.

Let them brag of their Hathenish Gods,

Their Lethes, their Styxes, and Stygians;

Their Quis, and their Quaes, and their Quods,

They’re all but a parcel of Pigeons.

Toroddle, toroddle, toroll!

Oliver Goldsmith

This entry was posted in Fiction / Poetry / Songs and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to from: She Stoops to Conquer

  1. slpmartin says:

    Very witty and clever poem…enjoyed reading it.


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